Shadows & Flame Complete Boxed Set: Demons of Fire and Night Novels

by C. N. Crawford

  She leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “I felt you touch me.” She could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her forearm.

  “Yes. I wanted you to know that just because you’re shadow walking doesn’t mean you’re invulnerable. Someone with a blade could still do damage if you’re in the wrong place.”

  “Noted.”

  “One more task.” He pointed at the door of her apartment. “Shadow run to your door.”

  “That’s it?”

  Bael nodded.

  Fatigue began to burn through her body, but Ursula channeled the shadow magic once more. It rippled through her chest, energizing her body. She concentrated on the sleek black door to her quarters. But when she tried to flicker to the spot, she found herself ten feet short of her destination.

  Confused, she turned to Bael. “What happened?”

  He stepped over the shattered tile. “Another important part of our lesson. You can only shadow run for a limited distance. About ten yards.” He studied her. “How do you feel?”

  Her entire body ached as though she’d run a marathon. Her hips and thighs screamed with exhaustion. “Completely knackered.”

  “Good. That’s the final caveat—shadow magic is fatiguing. If you use it too much, you’ll be too tired to fight.”

  She wiped a hand across her brow. “I need a nap.”

  “I will have some lumen crystals brought into the atrium. If you hold them close, you should be able to absorb their shadow magic, just like you did on the onyx throne. You can practice shadow running.”

  “I take it you don’t want me to use the throne.”

  “Perhaps we should keep our distance until the duel.” Shadows seemed to gather around him, and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. She had an overwhelming sense that he was hiding something from her.

  “Of course,” she said.

  He turned, disappearing into his hall.

  Ursula swallowed. A wisp of the hollow void flickered in her chest.

  Chapter 38

  Ursula stood in the center of the lion mosaic, a lunem crystal in each hand. Tendrils of shadow trickled from her fingers, gathering on the floor in a black mist. Dark magic thrummed through her bones, chilling her skin. Her breath misted around her head.

  Bael was most certainly hiding something from her. Something about the way he wouldn’t look at her when they’d said goodbye made her muscles clench.

  She waved a hand through the air, watching the shadows flicker around it. I just need to make sure I’m strong enough to fight him when I need to.

  Magic pooled in her body, flooding her muscles with power and demanding to be used. She lowered the crystals to the floor, and focused on a spot across the room.

  Shadows rushed over her skin, through her gut, and her stomach flipped as she felt herself brushing the void. She reappeared ten feet away. I’ve got this. I’m a natural.

  She straightened her back, then concentrated on a place near the lion’s mane. Almost instantly, she flitted across the room in a cloud of black smoke. Wisps of magic curled around her fingers, tingling along her skin.

  Most of the raw power had seeped from her body, but some of the magic still buzzed up her spine. Let’s see what I can do when the power is fading.

  She glanced at a spot near the onyx door, letting the shadows carry her through the air. But this time, she appeared a few feet short. Her toes throbbed as warmth returned to them. The magic was almost gone. A good reminder to conserve magic in the duels.

  Bael’s onyx door stood only a few feet away, cold and black as the void. She crossed to it, running her fingers over the smooth, cold surface. Wisps of shadows trailed from her fingers into the stone. The onyx seemed to absorb her magic, thirsty for shadow power.

  Bael had warned her away from his quarters, and that only made her more desperate to find out what he was hiding.

  Her mind churning, she turned to walk back into her own quarters. As she took a step, a scraping sound echoed off the atrium walls, and she whirled.

  The stone had rolled to the side.

  Ursula stared at the open door. Apparently, the magic from her fingers had acted as a sort of key, unlocking Bael’s chambers.

  And of course, under no circumstances should she go inside. It would be an intrusion, and a dangerous one at that. She didn’t need to provoke Bael’s wrath before the duel.

  Then again...

  If he was hiding something from her, it was better to know what it was.

  She swallowed hard, taking a tentative step into the tunnel, but the interior was too dimly lit for her to see anything.

  Nothing moved in the tunnel, but distant voices echoed off the cavern walls. Male voices. Who did he have in his quarters? The man seemed to live in total isolation, and suddenly he was holding a party.

  She crept further down the hallway, and the darkness gave way to the purple glow of mushroom light. She hugged the walls, trying to stay in the shadows. As she walked, the voices grew louder, but she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

  She pressed on, her pulse speeding up. At the end of the tunnel, she hesitated. As soon as she stepped out onto the stone bridge, Bael would see her. She crouched, straining her ears. The voices grew softer, until they faded away entirely. Slowly, she rose. Silence had fallen over the cave.

  She waited another minute, then crept from the tunnel. She tiptoed over the stone bridge, cringing with each scuff of her shoe.

  As she entered his cavern, she surveyed the space: his marble table, the violet crystals, and his forbidding throne overlooking it all. Nothing out of place.

  Ursula shivered, looking at the yawning blackness of the abyss around her. Who, or what, had been talking in here—and where the hell had they gone?

  Depleted of magic after her shadow running, her muscles ached.

  Bael’s throne seemed to call to her, luring her forward with its promise of thrilling power. If she sat in it, shadow magic would flood her body, filling her limbs with strength. A part of her wanted to give in to its lure entirely. Relinquishing her humanity, letting the void take her soul, becoming one with the god of night.

  She brushed a fingers along the throne’s arm, only to pull her hand away with a jerk when the image of an endless chasm filled her mind.

  What am I thinking? An eternity of nothingness would drive her insane.

  She surveyed the platform again. I know I heard voices in here. She took a tentative step around the throne, expecting the stony floor to continue on, but she gasped as she found herself on a cliff’s edge. A deep chasm yawned behind the throne—too dark to investigate.

  She ran back into the cavern and yanked out a small, glowing mushroom that grew near the wall. She held it like a candle, and it cast a cold light over the floor.

  She crossed back to the cliff’s edge behind the throne, and held the mushroom over the side. A pair of metal pitons jutted from the stone, with thick rope wrapped around either end. The top of a rope ladder—that’s where the men had disappeared to.

  Chapter 39

  If one thing was clear at this point, it was that she should turn around and scurry back to her quarters. She could still pretend that she hadn’t snuck into Bael’s chambers uninvited, when he’d explicitly told her to stay away. We should keep our distance, he’d said.

  But she knew he was hiding something from her. She was a warrior now, and she’d do whatever it took to learn about her opponent.

  Why, exactly, was she worried about protecting his feelings and his request for privacy, when in a couple of days he’d be ramming a knife into her heart, ushering her into the void with a violent death?

  If she wanted any hope of walking out of that arena alive, she’d better learn everything she could about her greatest adversary.

  She rested the mushroom on the stone behind the throne, and it cast a dim violet light on the rope ladder until it dwindled into darkness.

  She climbed over the cliff’s side, gripping tightly to the rope. Once she had b
oth feet firmly on the rungs, she retrieved the glowing mushroom, clinging to its stem as she slowly climbed down. With each step down, the shadows seemed to close in, darkening the mushroom’s light.

  A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. I can’t tell if I’m brilliant or a complete moron. That would all depend on the outcome of this particular excursion.

  The ladder swung as she moved, but it seemed to be anchored at the bottom. She peered down at the heavy darkness. Her pulse began to race. Was there an end to this descent?

  Her breath came faster. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. But as soon as her eyes were shut, a vision flashed in her mind: Bael piercing her chest with a dagger.

  Bollocks. The vision was becoming so clear, it felt like a premonition more than a nightmare.

  Focus on the task at hand, Ursula. She stepped down another rung. Release foot. Move free hand down a rung. Carefully unclasp the hand with the mushroom. Repeat the entire process again.

  Just when she was certain she’d be climbing for the rest of eternity, her foot brushed against a gravel floor. She tentatively released the rope, shocked to find the solid ground beneath her. Fatigue burned through her muscles, shaking her legs.

  The fungus illuminated rocky walls and a rocky room, covered in antiques. What the hell?

  At one end, the walls narrowed into a tunnel—perhaps where Bael and his friend had gone. And the rest of the space was covered in curiosities: an old ship’s clock propped on a dusty table, a stuffed raven in a cage, a horned demon’s skull in a bell jar, furniture covered in draped sheets. And propped on a wooden stand, the corkscrew she’d used to stab Bael.

  Apparently, this was Bael’s storage space.

  As she scanned the room, her gaze landed on an overturned picture frame next to the ship’s clock. When she flipped it over, her stomach swooped. Bael’s beautiful wife stared back at her, her brown eyes sad and serious.

  Ursula ran her finger over the hole in the painting. Why did he put you down here?

  She turned it over on the table again exactly where she’d found it. She could try to work out the Freudian complexities of Bael’s psyche another time. Perhaps, if she managed to survive the duel.

  Further down the tunnel, a shout echoed off the rock, and her heart began to thump. If she was going to follow the sound of the voices, she needed a weapon.

  Her pulse speeding up, she crouched, pulling out a box from below the table. She rummaged through old compasses and tools until she found the obsidian blade—the one Cera had given her. I do believe this belongs to me.

  Her feet crunched over the gravel as she crossed to the tunnel, gripping the knife in one hand and the mushroom in the other.

  As she made her way through the tunnel, the fungus glowed over runes and twisting symbols carved into the walls—the same ones she’d seen in the passage above.

  At the end of the tunnel, a pale light glowed. And as she drew nearer to the light, she pressed against the tunnel wall, hoping to remain unnoticed. Here, the air grew thick with humidity. A high-pitched squawk echoed off the walls.

  She peered around the corner. Much like the passage to Bael’s throne room, this passage also opened into a larger chamber. Among a sea of darkness, luminescent mushrooms lit the air. The warm air had an earthy, fungal aroma, and her skin dampened. She wiped a hand across the back of her forehead.

  This must be the rookery she had flown through with Cera on her way to the melee.

  A gravel path wound through the forest of mushrooms. She dropped her little toadstool by the entrance to the passage and followed the path.

  Chapter 40

  Up close, the mushrooms were even bigger than she’d realized—the size of elms. They glowed a faint cornflower blue.

  Her feet crunched on the gravel path that wove between them until the gravel gave way to a loamy soil. She caught a flicker of movement a hundred feet to her left—a large, furry body that slowly undulated around a mushroom stalk.

  Her stomach clenched. One of the caterpillars she had seen from Sotz’s back.

  Another giant insect slithered to her right, its green body curling up a mushroom. She stared in horrified fasciation as it tore out a chunk of fungal flesh with an enormous pair of incisors.

  But as she pressed forward, something else caught her attention—the resonant sound of Bael’s voice, chanting in Angelic. Time to hide. She slipped off the path, moving from stalk to stalk until she got a clear view of the action. She peered out from behind a mushroom, sweat dampening her clothes.

  Turned away from her, Bael stood in the center of a clearing, surrounded by mushroom stumps. He wore his black riding cloak. Around him stood a cluster of demons dressed in gray cloaks, their hoods pulled over their heads. Even without seeing their faces, she could tell by their short stature they were oneiroi.

  Bael finished his spell, and the oneiroi began to chant in another language—one she’d never heard before.

  A chill deepened around her. Whatever spell they were casting, it channeled shadow magic. The oneiroi hunched closer together, and the temperature plummeted. Their voices rose into the air, and a sharp burst of shadow magic ripped through mushrooms. A silent detonation that slammed Ursula in the chest like a fist. Hollowness pierced her, and she fell to her knees, her body shaking from the blast of power.

  The darkness threatened to pull her under, and for just a moment, she saw a flash of Bael, holding the knife to her chest.

  Stay grounded, Ursula. She sucked in a breath, feeling the damp earth beneath her knees and hands. The air felt thick and warm again. She opened her eyes, her gaze landing on Bael. He still stood before the oneiroi, completely unperturbed, as if a massive blast of magic hadn’t just ripped through the mushroom forest.

  Thick shadows coalesced around her, and magic simmered in her chest. The blast had completely recharged her body.

  “Did the necromancy work?” asked Bael.

  “I don’t know,” said a hooded oneiroi. “It hasn’t moved.”

  She shifted position, trying to get a glimpse of what they were looking at. They seemed to be staring down at something in the center of the circle, but she couldn’t tell what.

  “Again,” said Bael. “We must chant the channeling spell once more.” He pulled his hood over his head, chanting again in Angelic. Shadow magic flickered over Ursula’s skin.

  Did he say necromancy? What the hell is he up to?

  She needed a better vantage point. Her gaze flicked to a short mushroom about fifteen feet away. If she could get to the top of the mushroom, she’d have a clear view. Good thing I’m charged up with magic, now. She could shadow run there without a problem.

  She stared at the mushroom’s cap, then let her body fill with shadow magic. She flitted through the air, reappearing on the mushroom’s cap. For a moment, she began to slide, then she dug her fingers into the mushroom’s flesh, its luminescent juices staining her hands.

  She glanced up at Bael and the oneiroi, and her mouth went dry. They surrounded a prostrate form. Long and lean, he lay stretched out on the ground, his skin gray as a corpse. Had they killed him?

  As Bael and the oneiroi chanted, the creature lay still as a grave. A chill of shadow magic raised goosebumps on her arms. Any second now, they were going to blast the air with magic again.

  She crawled to the edge of the cap, then let herself drop down to the soft earth. She hurried behind a stalk, just managing to find cover when a second blast rocked the forest. Shadow magic blasted through her bones, and she fell to the ground. Ice seized heart, and the void spread through her veins like poison.

  It called to her. Accept the darkness.

  So easy to fall into the void...

  Her fists tightened, and a fire roared in the hollows of her mind, a room in flames. The scent of burning flesh, agonized screams piercing the air. The best way to fight ice is with fire.

  The ice in her chest thawed, and she crawled to her knees. She felt the warm dirt beneath her hands, pressing into
her knees. I’m here, she told herself.

  She glanced up at the strange coven. In the center of the circle, the corpse now stood.

  “What are you?” said Bael.

  “You know me as the Gray Ghost,” it said in a hollow voice.

  Chapter 41

  Something slithered in the corner of Ursula’s vision. A shudder crawled up her spine, and she slowly turned. One of the enormous caterpillars was descending the trunk of mushroom just above her head. Thick as an anaconda, with a head the size of a bowling ball, its mandibles snapped audibly. Fear slithered over her skin.

  Bael’s voice rumbled through the forest. “Did you hear something?” He sniffed the air. “I smell something, too.”

  Ursula’s stomach clenched. He can’t smell me?

  “I’ll go check,” said one of the oneiroi.

  Fuck. They’re coming right for me.

  She pressed her back to the stalk, trying to avoid being spotted. Unfortunately, she was now trapped between the giant caterpillar and the approaching oneiroi. Adrenaline burned through her veins.

  Frantically, she looked around. A smaller mushroom stood a dozen yards away—further than she’d ever shadow run.

  She couldn’t see the cap, but she needed to find a way to get there before the sodding caterpillar ripped its fangs into her head.

  Swallowing hard, she envisioned the top of the mushroom cap. Shadow magic rushed through her bones, carrying her through the air. An instant later, she smacked into the top of mushroom. Even with the relatively forgiving softness of the mushroom’s surface, the landing took the wind out of her.

  She dug her fingers into its flesh with her nails.

  Still, from here, the oneiroi—or Bael—would be able to spot her if they looked up. She needed to get to the canopy’s next level.